Mudlark No. 39 (2010)

Plastic #4 (Low Density Polyethylene)

“Secrets will stay fresh for weeks,” the hostess said
as she burped the avocado bowl cradled in her hands.
Everyone was entranced by the endless array of colors
and the flexible airtight lids. The ladies took turns 
opening and closing as they developed a keen sense
of the ease with which things can be stored inside.

Liberation was just as straightforward —
a simple matter of bending plastic 
in the right direction at the right time.

She was more than willing to embrace 
the facade of high heels and hose 
to ease executive minds —
she was a prophet peddling enlightenment
disguised in the trappings of expectation
and everything was about 
to come apart at the seams.

Years later, she would slip and fall 
on the carpet of her living room floor
just out of reach of the volume knob on the stereo
and even further from the phone, forced to listen
to the Moonlight Sonata playing on repeat for two and a half hours 
while she waited for the paramedics.

The orthopedic surgeon replaced one side of her hip 
with a pliant piece of milky-white plastic 
designed to cradle calcified femur (blind fish are a testament 
to the superfluous nature of color in dark places). 
The doctor chose the anterior approach and then sealed her back up 
with a straight line of stitches.

Drew Dillhunt | Mudlark No. 39 (2010)
Contents | Plastic #1 (Polyethylene Teraphthalate)